The billionaire had his panic room built soon after his first child was born

general topics
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What it’s really like to be rich.

The billionaire had his panic room built soon after his first child was born — “you want to protect them, y’know?” For most parents, that means splashing out on a top-of-the-range baby monitor. For the super-rich, it’s a concrete bunker with nuclear, biological and chemical attack protection.
Anti-intruder systems, steel walls and satellite phones... why London's super-rich are busy installing panic rooms | London Evening Standard | The Standard

They’re obviously not writing about me.

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Why, it was only just a few hours ago that I mentioned how it’s getting increasingly difficult to tell satire from reality, and bam.

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I like to feed entropy.

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I suppose there are a couple of ways to go about that; get up off your bum and move a lot of stuff around, or sit on back your arse and let stuff fall apart.

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I’m a perennial optimist. I’ll sit on my arse - it’ll fall apart anyway. Chinua Achebe gave me more than enough faith in that.

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Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Do you think maybe we could get some passionate intensity and conviction happening among the best?

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I honestly don’t think I’d want to be a billionaire. They truly do have to face inconveniences that we mere mortals can’t imagine—just ask John Paul Getty III.

Not that I’m gonna lose much sleep over the plight of the super-rich.

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To be fair to him, he didn’t tell us the real reason.

Children are terrifying.

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One rather suspects that to become a billionaire one must do things that result in said inconveniences. One does not get a billion dollars just dropped into one’s lap.

If I had a billion dollars I think I would very quickly work on becoming a very happy and comfortable multi-millionaire.

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Unless you happen to be born a Walton or a Rockefeller or a Hearst.

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I always forget about America’s wealthy aristocracy.

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Your arse? I mean, the thing that is going to fall apart despite our best efforts,

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That’s what they’re hoping for, most of the richest families in America try to stay out of the limelight. Ever hear of the Mars family? Three siblings with no job responsibilities whatsoever who have about $60 billion between them just because their grandfather founded a candy bar company.

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I don’t know about you but that makes me want to commit some crimes right now.

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It’s enough to make you want to cut off some rich kid’s ear and send it to an Italian newspaper.

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Everyone does. That’s how you can educate millions of school children in the belief they face a level playing field.

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So that’s a 100 year old fortune?

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would rather undo them, i think.

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The Mars family fortune grew quite a bit in the mid-20th century largely due to the efforts of the founder’s son, Forrest Mars, who oversaw the development of M&Ms and other admittedly cool things, but as far as I can tell the current generation of Mars family members did little or nothing to earn their tens of billions.

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When the Lotto hit the big jackpot numbers, like millions of others, I bought a ticket. Why not? Naturally I had to plan what I was going to do with my multi-millions. What it came down to was after I paid off my debts and set up a business doing what I love without worrying about making money, I was going to throw a wonderful party for my friends and hand out checks for them to live their dreams.

Then there was my husband, who decided we’d build a race track in front of our mansion and invite our friends to come and race cars with us.

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